


Lost War

by CrazyJanaCat



Series: Harrymort One-shots [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Dehumanization, M/M, Memory Alteration, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 18:41:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6206197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyJanaCat/pseuds/CrazyJanaCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione Weasley née Granger finds herself in a very strange position as she is chosen to become the new assistant of the ruler of Wizarding Britain, Lord Voldemort. But maybe, just maybe meeting the madman brings some good news as well...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost War

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to GittieKittie for beta-ing this, even though you really dislike Romione. Sorry I had to put you through that :)

Lost war:

It had been 19 years since the end of the 2nd Wizarding War, and 22 since that fateful day where Harry had gone into the Maze, the third Task of the Triwizard Tournament and never come out. It was equally as long since the disappearance of Cedric Diggory, who had likely been with Harry, and the death of former Auror, Mad-Eye Moody. The eccentric man had been found dead in his own chambers, locked away in a large chest, the Dark Mark looming threateningly over the Castle.

The Order had gone into hiding as soon as they realized they couldn’t win, but refused to give up until the very last of their resistance was forcefully cut down. The Weasleys had given up early on, deciding that the safety of their many children was more important than their freedom. Hermione had hidden with them until the persecution of muggleborns had died down.

Some 5 years after the war, the Dark Lord had announced that muggleborns, married into a wizarding family would receive the status of Half-blood, and shortly after, Hermione Granger had married Ron Weasley, both as protection and love. She hadn’t seen her own parents since she was 15 years old.

Today, she was seeing off her oldest child, a daughter she and Ron had named Rose. She was a first year at Hogwarts, and Hermione was very happy she was able to say goodbye to the red haired girl without having to look over her shoulder every second, the wedding ring would keep her safe, even surrounded by half-bloods and purebloods as she was here on platform 9 ¾.

She knew very well Hogwarts wasn’t what it used to be anymore. The Dark Lord had relocated the school to the other side of Hogsmeade and turned the Castle into an elite school only for the rich and talented. So, unless Rose would graduate with highest marks, her school career would end at 16 instead of 18.

“Good luck, love,” Hermione whispered as she kissed her daughter’s cheek.  
“Be a good girl for us now, alright? We’ll miss until you get back this Christmas.”

“Don’t worry so much,” Ron told his wife, smiling.  
“It’s not like she’ll be all on her own, she’s got all her cousins looking after her.”

He was right, of course. All of Ron’s siblings, aside from Ginny and Charlie had children, and most of them were already at Hogwarts.

Bill and Fleur’s oldest daughter, Victoire, was in her last year, their second daughter, Dominique, was a 5th year student and their son, Louis, was a 3rd year. Percy’s oldest, Molly, was in 3rd year as well, and his youngest, Lucy, was 9, just like Hermione and Ron’s son, Harry. Fred had married Alicia Spinnet, and they had together three kids. The oldest was a son whom they had named George, 12, just two days older than his cousin Fred, George’s oldest son. Jake and Jane were twins, both only 10 years of age. George and Angelina’s daughter was named Roxanne, and she too was 9.

“At least don’t let your cousins bully you into breaking the rules,” Hermione eventually chuckled.

“Study hard and get that scholarship when you graduate,” Ron suggested lightly.  
“Be sure to show Malfoy’s kid that us Weasleys aren’t defeated just yet!”

Rose beamed up at her dad and nodded before saying her goodbyes one last time and boarding the train. Hermione, Ron and little Harry stayed a bit longer, waving after the train alongside the rest of the Weasley clan and their too young kids before they left by floo back to their apartment near Diagon Alley.

As they arrived, they found a large, grey owl sitting in front of the window. It wore the Dark Mark, meaning it was an official letter from the Dark Lord’s circle. Fear gripped Hermione, as she shakily reached for the letter attached to the bird’s leg. The large owl just watched with bored yellow eyes as she undid the ties around the letter and read it. Her eyes widened and she gasped.

“What do they want?” Ron asked quietly.

“They’re impressed with my work at the Ministry,” Hermione replied shakily.  
“They want me to become the Dark Lord’s assistant.”

Ron paled and sat down on the couch. His blue eyes stared at Hermione in fear as he pulled Harry closer to himself. Hermione sagged a bit and sat down next to her husband, laying her head on his shoulder in a silent request for comfort. Her husband easily complied by laying an arm over her shoulders.

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” he murmured.  
“You’re really smart. This just proves that they have to acknowledge that too.”

“But this’ll mean I’ll have to work right next to Voldemort,” Hermione whispered hoarsely.  
“I’m a mudblood, sitting right next to a muggle hating tyrant. One mistake and he’ll kill me! Probably even just when he’s bored…”

“If the rumours about his ‘hobbies’ are true, torturing you will be the last thing on his mind.”

Hermione chuckled weakly at the comment and gave her husband a grateful smile. Voldemort’s favourite pastime wasn’t muggle hunting or torturing, like many would think. No. as rumour had it, it was sex. He was said to have a whole mansion, just for his concubines, both female and male, and one special one that went everywhere with him. The Dark Lord was shameless in his activities as well, and it wasn’t unusual that he’d have his slave suck him off in the middle of a conference, or that he bent the boy over the table, screwing him in front of very important foreign officials. Yes, his favourite slave was indeed a teenage boy, as it had been for the past three years, apparently.

“I just hope I won’t have to see him abuse some poor muggleborn boy,” Hermione muttered.

.              .              .               .              .

Hermione was trembling as she followed the Death Eater towards the conference room where the Dark Lord Voldemort would see her. He wanted to personally explain to her what her new duties would be. This would mean she’d be alone in one room with the most terrible man in the whole world.

“This is it. Good luck.”

Hermione nodded in thanks and turned towards the large door. She swallowed nervously and looked back at the man that had led her here, only to find he was already leaving again. Hermione took a deep breath to steel her nerves and knocked on the door.

“Enter!” a raspy voice called.

Hermione hesitated a moment longer before grasping the ice cold handle and opening the door. She entered, but only just barely as sounds reached her ears. She stopped dead in her track, blushing at the gasps and moans. Hermione wanted to turn back, wait somewhere until the man was done, or even better, just go back home and forget she was ever even here.

“I-I’m so sorry, My Lord!” she gasped, inching back out the door.

“No need. Come sit, we have much to discuss,” Voldemort hissed in a raspy voice.

Hermione swallowed nervously and reluctantly walked into the room, taking a seat on the other end of the large conference table. This gave her the perfect view of the naked back of the teen bouncing on the tyrant’s lap. The sight filled her with disgust, but she did her best not to show it.

The boy, who was still moaning and moving as if Hermione wasn’t there, couldn’t possibly be older than 16 years. He was thin and his skin was pale with several scars on his back and the dark mark on his left shoulder blade. He had shaggy black hair and the golden band around his neck was much bigger and heavier than any other she had seen. It had several jades in it, mostly to add to the decorative dragons and snakes that moved around on the collar.

“I’ll be right with you Mrs… Weasley,” the Dark Lord said, having to look on a piece of paper for her name.

The boy on his lap tensed and moaned loudly, grasping his master’s shoulders tightly as his movements stuttered. Voldemort grinned and grabbed the boy’s chin, bringing his head down for a passionate kiss. Hermione quickly looked away, but couldn’t keep out the gasped breaths between wet kisses or the sloppy sounds of fucking when the boy started moving again.

“Good boy,” the Dark Lord hissed.  
“Take everything I give to you, sweet pet.”

The boy moaned in response and nodded eagerly, moving faster on the terrible man’s lap. His arms wound around the Dark Lord’s neck and he buried his face in his master’s shoulder, making a lot more sounds now as he chased completion for both his master and himself.

Voldemort moaned loudly, his own hands finding the boy’s hips and pressing him down harshly, making the raven haired boy gasp and tense. A moment later, the boy slumped forward, giving an exhausted sigh as he laid his head on the Dark Lord’s shoulder. Hermione could now see part of his face, the long, girly eyelashes, pale complexion, blushing cheeks, fine nose and high cheekbones. She had to admit the teen was very beautiful, even though she still didn’t condone the actions.

Hermione, just like all the Weasleys, still believed everyone deserved to be free to make their own choices. This boy was likely taken from his parents at a very young age, around five or six she thought, were most muggle born children taken.

He would have gone to a slave training centre until 13, then moved to a sex-slave training school until 16. Usually, to wear a golden collar, he would have to have gone to the concubine school until 18, but he looked much too young for that. Voldemort must simply like the boy enough to switch out his silver collar for a golden one or something.

Enslavement of muggleborns were very common under Lord Voldemort’s rule. The children were usually taken from their families, who were either obliviated or simply killed as soon as they started showing accidental magic and were then sent to a magical orphanage where they learned how they would one day serve purebood families, either as a labour slave, or as sex-slaves.

The labour slaves were trained up until 13 before marked with a bronze collar and sold off. Only then were some chosen to continue training in the ways of pleasuring a master. Sex-slaves. They would continue their ‘education’ until the age of 16, wearing silver collars. Only the best and brightest of these few were ‘awarded’ with a golden collar and trained in the ways of politics and etiquettes so they would be able to impress their master’s friends and colleagues as proper concubines. Concubines were very rare and highly sought after, as only very few were admitted into the training program. Even fewer boys.

“Go back to our room and wait for my return,” the Dark Lord ordered, shoving the boy off his lap harshly.

Hermione winced as the boy landed on the floor with a yelp. Scrambling back up, the teen grabbed a pair discarded sweatpants and pulled them on before turning towards Hermione. The woman gasped as her brown eyes met with bright, killing curse green. They stared at her curiously, but no recognition could be found in their debts. For a moment, Hermione thought she might have just been mistaken, after all, the boy in front of her should be dead, or at least much older than this. Still, the familiar lightning bolt scar was a tell-tale sign.

“Harry?” she whispered softly.

The boy didn’t answer her. He just cocked his head in curiosity, watching her in silence for a few moments before looking back over at Voldemort questioningly. The Dark Lord just waved him off. With a bright smile and a nod, the teen bolted out of the room, waving at Hermione as he went.

“I almost forgot you used to be his friend,” Voldemort mused.  
“You were his mudblood pet, were you not?”

Hermione blushed in embarrassment at that. She would love to point out that she’d been his _friend_ , not something as diminutive as a _pet_. Harry had never been the type to use people. They had cared for each other very deeply, and she still cared. Instead of saying any of that, however, Hermione simply nodded her head and looked down at her hands. She now had a family to look after and couldn’t afford invoking the wrath of the Dark Lord. What would happen to her kids if she didn’t come home? What would happen to Ron?

“He used to claim you’d come and save him.”

The casually spoken words made her tense. Wide eyes in horror, she looked back up, meeting the smirking man’s blood red snake eyes. Voldemort gave a soft chuckle and leaned back in his chair, looking at Hermione amused.

“The boy was hard to break, I admit,” he started, keeping his eyes trained on Hermione as he spoke.  
“Fought like a little lion for several years, actually. Screamed himself hoarse many times, and not only under torture or when my followers broke him in.”

Hermione paled drastically at the implications the Dark Lord gave, but stayed completely still as the man continued his taunting.

“It took about two years to get fed up with his cursing and hissing, so I removed his ability to form words. I did think about simply removing his vocal cords altogether, but decided against it. I like it when he can moan and scream.”

That explained why he hadn’t said a single word while Hermione had been around. Poor Harry hadn’t been able to speak in 20 years!

“As you probably noticed, I stopped his aging around the same time, shortly before taking away his ability to speak, actually. About a week, maybe two,” the Dark Lord said, smirking darkly.  
“His begging was worth it. His begging to die, that is. The pain must have been quite something. He hadn’t even screamed that loud under the Cruciatus curse. But the greatest part is that his body now always heals at a very high rate and returns to how it had been that day. No scar has been added to his skin since then either. A pity.”

With every word spoke, Hermione’s horror grew. All the scars, the carved words, the slashes and tears and bite marks, all came from the first two years. And depending on just how fast he healed, the Dark Lord was able to do so much worse than before too. Things that would have killed Harry otherwise and now he healed before it could be lethal. What else did this man put her best friend through?

“It took about five years for him to give up fighting, and about eight to give up all hope,” Voldemort continued.  
“After that, he refused to acknowledge anything and anyone for months, until I showed him a torture session of one of his old classmates. He tried to speak for the first time in a long while. Of course, the spell I put on him is quite permanent, so he could do nothing but watch as I killed miss Brown.”

Hermione felt sick. Had Harry gone through all that? The Order had been so sure that Harry had died that day in the Graveyard along with Cedric, so any search parties were called off within six months. Instead, her best friend had suffered at the hands of this monster for years, believing they would come save him while they had long since given up on him.

“In about ten years, the boy became _very_ devoted to me. He finally learned I was his only lifeline and he has been entire dependent on only me,” Voldemort told her proudly.  
“Only I had access to his chambers. I made sure his food was magically transported to him to prevent even contact with House Elves, and I only spoke Parseltongue to him. He is relearning to understand English for the past three years now.”

Isolation. Was there anything Voldemort _hadn’t_ done to her friend? He suffered so much, and for what? Because he survived the first murder attempt? Because he’d been a symbol of hope for those fighting against Voldemort? He had been just a child. He still looked like one now! Tears were streaming down Hermione’s cheeks as she stared into those amused crimson orbs of the Dark Lord. She tried to relay all her hatred in there, all her anger she felt towards him, but he simply smiled.

“At this point, he doesn’t even remember he had a life before me.”

Out of everything, those were probably the words that hurt the most. It was like a sledgehammer slamming into her chest and for a few seconds, Hermione was unable to breathe at all. With a pleased sigh, Voldemort stood up and stretched lazily before gazing one last time towards Hermione.

“Congratulations with your new position as my assistant,” he said mockingly.  
“Be glad you will be able to spend more time with your beloved Saviour, though most of it, he will be moaning with my cock up his arse. Maybe you’ll find some time to talk to him too hmm? Perhaps you could even jog his memory if you tried hard enough. It’ll be very amusing to break him a second time.”

With that, the horrid man strolled out of the room, leaving his new assistant alone with her tears.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Lost war will now also be a separate series! I have too many plans for this world, not only for Harrymort, but the Weasleys and the whole Next Generation too! It will become a series of one-shots, all following a single character for a day or so and together, it will form a bigger plot (I think)


End file.
